


I wish you knew that I miss you too much to be mad anymore

by meganseverafter



Series: When we live such fragile lives, it’s the only way we survive [4]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Post-Sochi but Pre-Comeback thoughts, Sorry Not Sorry, Unnecessary comparison to The Notebook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 15:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meganseverafter/pseuds/meganseverafter
Summary: A chapter each for some Post-Sochi angst. It’s fairly light angst. References a lot of stuff from past pieces of the series so I’d read the whole thing to get the right feel.





	1. Chapter 1: Tessa

Tessa sometimes wonders what would have happened if that test came up positive. Not because she really expected it to, really. It was just that her Sochi cold became a flu by the time she got home and so she had thrown up a couple of times. She’d been between stints by the toilet when Jordan had called to tell her about one of her friends announcing her pregnancy, and that sent Tessa into a panic spiral. She and Scott always used a condom and she’s been taking her birth control pills religiously since the moment she had her first period, but their last time together had been just after losing the gold and it’s just a frantic blur in her head so she couldn’t confidently say that there _was_ a condom, and stress and illness can cause the pill to be ineffective and wouldn’t that be just her luck, given that she’d barely spoken to Scott after getting back on Canadian soil because he’d enacted the two date rule for this Kaitlyn girl. 

Whenever she thinks about the possible positive, the baby that would have _caused_ that little plus sign that screams “You’re adding a human being to this world!”, she has to remind herself that it’s for the best that the baby didn’t exist; she and Scott weren’t in the best place going into Sochi and were even worse off coming out. There’d been talks of stopping the sex after he broke up with Cassandra, but given that after he’d shown up at her door announcing that he’d broken up with her before they climbed right back into Tessa’s bed, they’d had the first practice since he’d started _dating_ someone else that neither of them felt like ripping their hair out in frustration, they decided that it was still too beneficial to their skating, even if it was getting a little toxic, to stop. They’d agreed to address it after the competition was done (Scott apparently addressed it by getting a new girlfriend and skirting the issue entirely). So really, it’s _good_ that it was a false alarm. 

Especially because she wouldn’t have had the chance to do so many sponsorships with amazing brands or continue working on her university degree (that she’s not even sure she wants anymore, but Tessa Virtue is not a quitter. And even if she was, she needs an accomplishment of her own, something that no one else’s name can be tacked onto. Something that reads “Tessa Virtue” with no “and Scott Moir” in sight). 

Really, she doesn’t even think about it that often. Until, hilariously, around nine months after Sochi, she gets wind of Scott buying a house between London and Ilderton. Because when she hears it from Jordan (who heard it from their mother, who heard it from Alma at their monthly get together, because their mothers are still friends even if she hasn’t talked to Scott since their last tour performance), she knows before Jordan even says which one it is.

There’d only been one house either of them had ever noticed between their hometowns. It’d been sort of okay looking when they’d drive past it on the way to and from the rink as children. Not rundown yet, but it could’ve used a new paint job. By the time they returned for their first Christmas since the move to Canton, it was looking worse for the wear. Now, though, the place is a visible money pit. One that, when she’d been looking to buy a house so that she didn’t have to stay with her mom every time she came home, the owner refused to sell. They’d taken to calling it the Notebook house, because they both had a stupid affection for it. And after not getting on the team for 2006, they’d charged the pay-per-view account at their hotel and watched The Notebook together. 

It was a purer time, then. Before Tessa had _dared_ to actually _consider_ asking Scott to take her virginity. When Scott had “jokingly” tried to cover her eyes during the sex scene. When Scott said “I’m going to take my winnings from the Olympics and fix that dump house. Make it just as nice as Noah did.” 

And rather than question _what_ Olympics he was was planning on winning because it _clearly_ wasn’t going to be in Turin, she feigned outrage instead, “What if _I_ was going to do that?” 

“But I’m handier than you, Kiddo. You’d have to hire people while I could just do it myself.”

“I wouldn’t hire anyone, I’d just make you do it.”

“You can have a say in it, but _I’m_ buying it.”

“Fine. Then I want an all white house, but with _green_ shutters.” She’d grinned then, nudging his knee under the blue blanket he’d given her that matched the green one she’s gifted him for their first Christmas together at just seven and nine, the colors representing their respective birthstones as a way to remind each other that they were always there for the other. (Originally, the blanket was Alma’s idea, when Scott started panicking about what to get Tessa because he hardly knew what she liked. Tessa had overheard their mothers discussing the gift two weeks before Christmas and had a near-meltdown of her own because she wasn’t aware they were even _doing_ gifts and _“what if the stores are all sold out of blankets, mom!”_ ). 

While they, unlike Noah and Allie, weren’t talking in a hypothetical time in which they’d be living in this house _together_ should he actually manage to buy it, it never occurred to him to _not_ agree to have Tessa’s mark all over it. “Of course. Anything else?” He’d asked, smiling indulgently and managing to forget about the disappointment of the day. 

“ _Huge_ closets, so that I can store whatever doesn’t fit at my house in yours. Oh! And a big soaker tub so you can take nice baths because I know how much you miss being able to do that in your new apartment. And a big kitchen and dining room to fit all of our family. And if you have to gut it, make sure the master isn’t going to be on the side with the morning sun so you can sleep in without being blinded.” She’d listed off, not once thinking about how weird that list would be to _normal_ friends, particularly the singular family, rather than plural. 

Now though, he’d gone and bought it, just as he said he would. But he’d bought it with _Kaitlyn_. And it probably won’t have emerald green shutters or big enough closets to house her wardrobe. It’ll be the first place he’s lived that she doesn’t have a say in decorating. That she won’t have to pick the furniture for because he doesn’t care enough to bother matching pieces together. That she won’t be the one to dictate where which picture frame should go. That won’t contain dozens of pictures of her and Scott (because now those frames will be taken up with pictures of him and Kaitlyn and what few he’ll keep of her will be a _normal_ amount to have of someone’s Platonic, Normal Friend). And she’s okay with that, really. It’s how it’s _supposed_ to be; they’re retired now. They’re supposed to be living their own lives. He has Kaitlyn and a house to settle down with and she’s got half a uni degree and a dozen sponsorships to keep her so busy she doesn’t have time to think about what it might’ve been like to have Scott settle down _with her_ after Sochi.


	2. Chapter 2: Scott

If Fifteen by Taylor Swift was the catalyst for their change in relationship status leading into the Vancouver Games, then Wonderland is her description of the lead up to and fallout of Sochi. He’s had a sick sort of relationship with Taylor Swift’s music since Tessa walked in with it and demanded he sleep with her, and ever since he’s just kind of listened to every song with the filter of his relationship with Tess. Maybe it’s because of this filter that he thinks too many of the lyrics applies to them, but he can’t say for sure. He hadn’t paid much attention to the Speak Now album, only because they were busy training, and fucking, and seeing other people, but he remembers The Last Time being a single because it was a special kind of punch to the gut, getting released just around the time he broke it off with Tess and started up with Cassandra (it’s so intertwined in his head that he genuinely doesn’t know if it was coincidence or fate anymore). But by the time 1989 is released, he’s got nothing _but_ time to listen to the whole album. It’d been suggested on his music app and he’d shrugged as he turned it on to work more on the house. And boy was _that_ a colossal mistake. Sure, every other song made him think of Tess, but Wonderland really hit him in the gut with that third verse:

_I reached for you, but you were gone_  
I knew I had to go back home  
You searched the world for something else   
To make you feel like what we had  
And in the end in Wonderland,  
We both went mad. 

He listened to that damn album more than a 27 year old grown ass man should while working on renovating a house, but he certainly never did it when someone else was there, helping him (later, midway through the comeback, when Tessa starts freaking out about their ages again, and how they’re not hitting the right milestones according to normal society, he’ll steal her move and force her to listen to You Are In Love, because even though he listened to it often during the period that he was with Kaitlyn, he never _once_ thought of her for that four and a half minutes).

For the record, Scott did love Kaitlyn. She was everything Tessa wasn’t, and he loved her for it (he’s aware that isn’t a good foundation to build a relationship on, but that’s what it was). She wasn’t a carbon copy of Tess, her name didn’t sound remotely similar (which meant he couldn’t even let himself consider thinking about Tess with her, because he couldn’t explain away her name the way he could with Jess and Cassandra), she preferred beer to wine and would rather watch hockey than read a book at the end of the night. 

She didn’t know about the time he nearly broke his arm doing a keg stand at 19, or that he’d let Tess make him be her “husband” when they occasionally played house as kids. She never questioned why he brought a worn emerald green blanket on every trip with him (or why there was an even more worn version that stayed on the end of his childhood bed at his parents’ house. She never knew to question why Tessa had a sapphire blue version of both of these blankets that she treated exactly the same). She didn’t know pre-Sochi Scott, didn’t know that his drinking was pushing it and not just who he was, didn’t know how bright his eyes could be when he smiled (because those smiles were historically for Tessa alone, and he could only manage a grimace type of smile when around Tessa in those awkward months after Sochi), didn’t know how he acted when he was working towards a goal (because he was already floundering for a purpose by the time he met her those last days in Russia). She only thought him partially nuts when he told her he’d gone out and bought a house, though the concern was more evident when she realized he’d bought a _shell_ of a house that really would be better off if it was just torn down. She’d agreed to help him work on it, though he didn’t take a lot of her opinions on style (later, he’ll realize that though he claimed he bought it for himself and Kaitlyn to have a future home, he was really building a house that he knew Tessa would love even though she didn’t have a proper say in it until a two and a half years into the project and well into their comeback).

He knew that Tess loved her too, had willingly surrendered her claim on him to Kaitlyn (or was forced by their own stupidity and her remaining habit of internalizing his moods and needs and then prioritizing them over her own, but that won’t come up until mid-comeback, in a therapy session that had to be cut short because they both refused to speak another word in front of the therapist and risk outting the fact that they’d been sleeping together for nearly a decade, that just before showing up to that session, they’d had a quickie in the shower. They’d then gone back to Tessa’s to hash it out themselves). They’d even become sort-of friends, which is something that had never occurred between Tess and his girlfriends of past, but Kaitlyn didn’t mind his partnership with Tessa. Didn’t assume the worst when practice ran late or when she’d watch them preform and gaze longingly into each other’s eyes. She’d mostly believed him when he said he and Tess had never been a thing, had never crossed that line, probably because she didn’t see them together before crossing that line was the only thing holding them together. Didn’t see them together when they were at the height of the world and their non-relationship was entirely functional, before he’d found Cassandra because he was terrified of ruining him and Tess because they were doing _so well_ privately (he’d ruined them anyway, but he can’t say that they’d even have a silver, had he not hit the breaks). 

Being with Kaitlyn was healthy in a way none of his past relationships ever had been. There was no pointless jealousy, no accusations that he was secretly fucking his partner (at least he never was when he was dating someone else. It’s a stupid thing to pride himself on, but then, sleeping casually with the only person that could make or break your career is stupid in and of itself), no unjust demands on his time. If anything, _he_ might’ve been the clingy one, flying to Winnipeg every other weekend to see her and getting drunk on the days between.

This had been going on for months and Danny had been gifted the chore of driving Scott home from the bar (very early in the night, the sun had only just finished setting) when Scott had seen the for sale sign in the lawn of the Notebook house. He’d told Danny to stop so fast that Danny was convinced he was going to puke out of the car, not go running into someone’s yard to take a picture of the house’s sale sign. He certainly didn’t expect Scott to come back slurring less with eyes more determined than he’d seen since he got home from the Olympics, asking if he knew of any good realtors because he _needed_ that house. And no amount of pointing out that the house looked like crap and had for _years_ was deterring Scott. 

Danny had sent his brother to bed that night with the warning not to make any stupid decisions until he’d slept it off. By that time the next day, the price had been negotiated and the paperwork was well underway. By the time a week had passed, Scott had the keys and was excitedly showing the house to Danny and their dad, instructing them to be careful of this floorboard and that, telling them not to mind the debris that had accumulated over the years of underuse. It was insane, but at least it forced Scott to spend his days a _little_ more sober, just so he didn’t fuck up the house completely. 

Admittedly, he didn’t even _consider_ Kaitlyn, even as he was handing over the check, when buying the house. In all honesty, it never occurred to him that she deserved a say in such a big purchase. He knew it was wrong, after the fact, which is why he posed it as a surprise rather than a lack of consideration when he finally told her (after he’d at least gotten the place cleaned up so you could see just what needed to be replaced, aka all of it). He didn’t realize that that was probably a sign that for all his talk, for all that he loved her, he didn’t see a _future_ with her. But then, Tess had always been the planner of the two, the one with the mood boards and meticulous planners so down to the T that she knew exactly where she’d be in five years. He’d always just gone along with her plan, until her plan didn’t cover _his_ life anymore and he’d been at a loss of what he was supposed to be striving for. 

And maybe, buying a house that he had dreamt about as a kid with Tessa wasn’t his best move, given their current status, but at least it gave him a place to _start_ picking up the pieces. And after a while, it felt like a bit of a metaphor for his relationship with Tess (which should have been a sign to him about his relationship with Kaitlyn). The tearing out of walls and rotting wood was the physical manifestation of trying to dig himself and Tess out of the pit they were in, trying to allow them to get through the year. 

It wasn’t until the place was gutted (just as T had predicted that it would need to be), and they (Scott, mostly, because he didn’t really take in any of Kaitlyn’a opinions on the subject unless he was already thinking along the same lines) were trying to block out the rooms, when it all blew up in his face. 

He and Kait are both morning people. Both people who greet the sun with a smile. She’d been trying to suggest putting the master on the south east corner of the house, to get a nice view of the sunrise and he’d skirted the topic for _weeks_ , but they (he) needed to decide on the floor plan before moving forward which meant he had to nix putting the room there officially. 

“That just doesn’t… _feel_ like where it should be.” He’d tried delicately, deliberately not looking at Kait so that he doesn’t have to deal with the conversation. 

“Why _not_? It’s not like there’s any neighbors that could see in, and the street isn’t close enough to either. You’re constantly opening the blinds the first thing in the morning; why wouldn’t you want the light to stream in?” 

“It’ll get too hot, having the sun on it all day.”

“The entire _east half of the house_ is going to be in the sun, Scott!”

“What if we want to sleep in, how annoying would the sun be then?” She’s getting to him, with her raised voice, but he’s trying every trick in his book of therapist advice to keep himself in control because Kaitlyn fights back differently than Tessa. And unlike with Tess, he doesn’t know that he can come back from every fight with Kaitlyn (even though he’s barely talked to Tessa, aside from awkward coffee dates discussing tour stuff and sponsorships. But they’ve never had a fight that they _haven’t_ come back from before and given that he’d not spoken to her for two months after she went into surgery just to save both of their careers, he’s willing to bet they’ll come back, _somehow_ , from this too, at some point).

“We barely sleep in, Scott. That’s not the reason. But then, you haven’t had a real reason to turn down _any_ of the ideas I’ve put forth for this house, have you?” 

“Kait…”

“No. Don’t _Kait_ me, with those damn soft eyes. Do you even want my opinion on anything in this house? On our lives? Our _future_? Because it doesn’t feel like you do. It feels like you’ve been building this house for somebody else. I mean, the Moirs are a lot, but does the kitchen need to be _that_ big? We could _easily_ fit an office down there if we just adjusted the size of the kitchen. And the dining room! God, who even still _uses_ a fucking dining room! Much less one that’s so fucking _huge_ , you’re going to have to hand-make your own damn table! I’d ask if you plan on us having enough kids to fill that space, but you don’t have anything to say about even getting _married_ at _some point_ , much less _kids_! And don’t say that it’s in case _my_ family visits for a holiday, because there is _no way_ they’d come often enough to warrant that kind of wasted space.” She argues, finally reaching her breaking point. Scott had been expecting it, in all honesty, but he can’t answer her final blow: “Who the hell is all the room for, Scott? What am I missing in your grand plan for our lives?”

He can’t answer that he’d promised Tessa to have a house big enough to fit their families. And because Kaitlyn hasn’t even _seen_ a proper VirtueMoir gathering, she can’t comprehend needing that much _space_ because she’s never seen them all together, doesn’t realize how fast the families are procreating, doesn’t understand needing to have places to _hide_ to just have a _breather_. And even if she _did_ understand that, trying to explain why needing space for another woman’s family to gather with his takes priority over planning for catering the space to fit his _actual girlfriend’s_ family probably wouldn’t go over very well. So he just stares at her, opening and closing his mouth in an attempt to figure out how to explain this, but she just scoffs and shakes her head.

“People warned me, you know? Warned me how you’d treated past girlfriends. How you’d be hot and cold with them; one moment you were desperately in love and the next you wouldn’t be heard from for two weeks. Warned me that no one, _no one_ , would come above Tessa in your eyes. But I was never subjected to any of that, and I thought it was because you’d grown up, but that’s not it is it? It’s because you’re not competing anymore.” She observes, and all Scott can do it look at this woman, this _perfect_ woman, who _should_ be everything he wants, who fits the bill of the girl he’d imagined he’d marry when he and Tessa discussed it one late night in some foreign city after a competition before they’d ever started sleeping together. But try as he might, he just _can’t_ give her what she wants. 

“If I’m not the one that you picture populating that dining room with, I need to know, Scott… We can’t just… keep playing around like this. I’m _ready_ to settle down with _you_ , but I won’t keep waiting around forever for you to decide you want me back.”

“I love you, Kait…” he finally says, taking her hands in his, “I love you, and everything you’re saying… It all makes perfect sense. And I know, logically, that this should be fitting into place, that I should be trying to figure out what kind of ring you’d want and how to propose…” He has to stop, to get the courage to finish the rest of this, to put the final nail in the coffin but her eyes are filling up with tears and he knows she’s aware this won’t end happily. “I’d gone into a jewelry store the other week, trying to see if I could find the right ring to trigger everything into place, but I just couldn’t do it… I love you, and when you think back I want you to remember that I… I just couldn’t be enough - couldn’t be the guy that you needed because I _haven’t_ grown up; I’ve just gotten better at pretending… But for all my shortfalls, you were the best thing that could have possibly happened to me, coming out of Sochi. And you’re… _perfect_ , Kait, really. In another world, where I wasn’t such a fucking _disaster_ with relationships, you’d probably be The One for me.” He tells her instead of everything else he could possibly say to make her stay. 

She says nothing as she collects her purse and jacket and walks out the front door of the shell of a house. He stays well past the time he expects it took her to grab all of her things from his apartment, only leaving the house after he’s mapped out the upstairs; the master on the north west corner, with two closets big enough to be a _very_ small bedroom and a spa-like bathroom, and an additional four bedrooms and two spare bathrooms. It’s excessive, probably, but it fits in the space well and he’s got plenty of friends out of town that could hypothetically fill the guest rooms, to make their existence worth it (is what he says. He knows they’re really for the imaginary kids that he would’ve, could’ve had with Tess, had he not been such a moron and ruined everything. Eventually, they end up filling each of them, but that’s years down the road).


End file.
